“You are almost as much a riddle as is Crispin,” said Maurice, chafing at this secrecy, which seemed to be so senseless.
“Doubtless; but if you are curious to know about us both, come to the Ægean with me.”
“About you both?” repeated the Englishman: “why, do you know anything of Crispin?”
Caliphronas knew a good deal about Crispin, but he was too wise to say that he did. Silence regarding the past on his part was the only way to secure silence on the part of Crispin; and much as Caliphronas, in his enmity to the poet, would have liked to reveal what Crispin desired to be kept secret, he had too much at stake to risk such a gratification of his spite, and therefore passed off the question with a laugh.
“Know anything about Creespeen?” he reiterated, smiling. “I’m afraid I know nothing more than you do. I met him at Athens, truly, but we were but acquaintances, so I never made any inquiries about him. He was as much a riddle there as here. Oh yes, I heard all the romances about him in London; and no doubt one story is as true as another. The reason I made such a remark as I did, was that, as Crispin says himself, he came from the East like a wise man of to-day; you will probably learn his past history in those parts.”
“Eh! I have told you all my past life, with the exception of Melnos, and that I did not think worth while relating. But it is a charming place, I assure you; and if you come with me, I am sure you will find a community under the rule of Justinian, which is quite foreign to this century.”
“I have a good mind to accept your offer,” said Maurice musingly; “there is nothing to keep me in England, and a glimpse of new lands would do me good. Besides, Count, one does not get such an excellent guide as you every day.”
“Oh, I know every island in the Ægean,” replied Caliphronas, smiling his thanks for the compliment. “I have sailed all over the Archipelago, and am quite a sailor in a small way. Lesbos, Cythera, Samos, Rhodes,—I know them all intimately; so if you are fond of ruins, and the remains of old Greece, I can show you plenty, tell you the legends, arrange about the inns, and, in fact, act as a dragoman; but, of course, without his greed for money.”
“It will be a visit to paradise,” cried Caliphronas enthusiastically, springing to his feet. “Here you do not know the true meaning of the word beauty. Only under the blue sky, above the blue waves of the Ægean, is it to be seen. Aphrodite arose from those waters, and she was but an incarnation of the beauty which meets the eye on all sides. You have been my host in England. I will be your host in Greece, and will entertain you in my ruined abode,—misnamed a palace,—which is all that remains to me of my forefathers. Together we will sail over those laughing waters, and see the sun-kissed islands bloom on the wave. Paradise! It is the Elysian fields of foam where rest the spirits of wearied mariners. What says the song of the Greek sailors?